A Simple Parish Priest
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: Set during first season. Philip encounters a soulwounded little girl and remembers that not all demons are of the supernatural variety.


Disclaimer: Philip Callaghan and Alex Moreau don't belong to me, nor does the concept of Poltergeist: The Legacy. However, Maddy and the Andrews family do belong to me. Don't mind if you borrow them. . .please just return them to me intact, and give credit where credit is due.  
  
This is a story based on a childhood experience I had, as well as Philip's comment in 'The Substitute' about being a simple parish priest. In a later episode, he told Nick that he, too, wanted to save the world. . .but he was doing it one soul at a time. One reason I always loved Philip was because he would consider the soul of a shattered twelve year old girl as important as any Legacy case. For obvious reasons, this story takes place in the first (and best) season.  
  
A Simple Parish Priest  
  
In all of her life, Madison Stuart never saw anyone like the young priest at St. Bartholomew's Roman Catholic Church. Admittedly, that covered a lot of ground, since Maddy was only twelve years old. Even so. . .he was a surprise to her. It wasn't that he was totally gorgeous, though her best friend Nina told her that Father Philip was like totally adorable. And it wasn't his soft Irish accent, or his gentle smile. Maddy learned not to trust good looks or sweet smiles.  
  
No, what completely won Maddy over was his eyes. If anything could be trusted, it was a person's eyes. And Father Philip Callaghan had the gentlest, kindest eyes she ever saw. Even so, it wasn't that which convinced her to walk with Nina and her parents to the vestibule of the church following Mass, to talk with the young priest. It was what he said. . .things which Maddy never heard before from her own minister. Things that she wanted so desperately to believe.  
  
Nina's mother said warmly as the young priest turned to them, "That was wonderful, Father Philip. This is Madison Stuart, Nina's best friend. She's spending the weekend with us, and we convinced her to come with us." The priest turned his attention to Maddy, smiling gently. For some reason, the girl thought, 'he's magic. Nina didn't tell me that he's magic.' Nina's mother added, "Oh, there's Charles and Renee! Maddy dear, you don't mind keeping Father Philip company for a few minutes, do you?" Maddy shook her head mutely, allowing Mr. and Mrs. Andrews to join their friends.  
  
It took all of her courage to say, "Mrs. Andrews is right, Father Philip. But I need to ask you something. Do you really believe what you said during the sermon?" The priest cocked his head to one side, frowning thoughtfully. Maddy shook like a willow tree in the wind, but forced herself to continue, "What you said, about God loving us. Did you really mean that?" The priest's pale blue eyes. . .at least, Maddy thought his eyes were blue. . .clouded over.  
  
"If I didn't believe it. . .if I didn't feel it, I wouldn't say it, Madison. Or do you prefer t' be called 'Maddy,' as Mrs. Andrews called you?" he asked. Maddy shrugged and the priest continued, "Then I'll call you 'Maddy.' I hear 'Madison' and I think of James Madison, the third president." Maddy rolled her eyes. . .she knew that! Father Philip continued, grinning like a mischievous little boy, "Then 'Maddy' it shall be. So tell me, Maddy, what prompted that question? Isn't that what you're taught?"  
  
Maddy never planned to tell him the truth. . .but it was what she blurted out anyhow. She said, "Because my minister says that I don't deserve to be loved. That I don't deserve God's love, and that I don't deserve my parents' love. That the only way I'll ever atone for Eve's sins is. . ." Maddy couldn't continue. She looked down at her shoes, half- afraid that the priest would confirm what her minister told her.  
  
"Glory be t' God. . .look at me, Madison Stuart," the priest said quietly. Maddy swallowed hard and raised her eyes to look at Father Philip. His pale eyes were slate gray, and his mouth was tight. . .even Maddy, who just met him, could tell that he was angry. She started to look away again, but the priest continued, "I'm not angry wi' ye, Maddy. Tell me, little one, how old are ye?"  
  
"Twelve," the girl whispered, by now shaking with a mixture of terror and relief. Terror of the anger which flashed in the young priest's eyes, and relief that she at last unburdened herself. Relief that none of the rage was directed at her. Maddy swallowed hard, then added, "You don't think he's right? You don't think that I'm a bad girl, that my parents are wrong to love me?" To her dismay, her eyes filled with tears.  
  
"No, I do not! Madison, listen t' me very carefully. It's immaterial whether or not we deserve God's love. . .we have it. Love is a gift, Maddy, something that is given, rather than earned. It's like forgiveness. And if we deny ourselves that Love, that is a terrible sin. Just as tellin' a little girl that she is unloveable is a terrible sin. . .and that's what you're sayin,' isn't it? That your minister told you that you were unloveable?" Father Philip asked, his Irish accent thickening.  
  
Maddy's tears now spilled over and she nodded, choking out, "I didn't think you would understand. If I'm so terrible, then why does God love me? Why do my parents love me?" How could she honor her parents if they loved someone terrible like her? She was so confused and at the same time, so angry, too. The priest looked away from her for a moment, but the little girl realized that he was collecting his thoughts.  
  
At last, he asked, "Maddy, let me ask ya a question, then I'll explain why I'm askin' this. Do ya love Nina?" The question took the girl off-guard, but after a moment, she nodded. She never thought of it that way, but yes, she did. Almost the same way she loved her brothers and sisters. Father Philip continued, "Even when she does somethin' t' hurt ya, do ya still love her?"  
  
"She's still my friend, yeah. I get mad at her sometimes, but she's still my friend," Maddy replied. She didn't understand what the priest was trying to tell her, and said as much, adding, "Father Philip, I don't understand. How does being friends with Nina. . . how is that connected to God loving us?" A sudden thought occurred to her, and she said slowly, "Unless you mean. . ."  
  
"That's how God feels about us, Maddy. Even when we do somethin' wrong, even when we mess up, He still loves us. Sixty seconds a minute, sixty minutes an hour, twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year. It doesn't end, Maddy. Believe me, I've messed up wi' my own life terribly. I've done thin's I'm ashamed of, but God never gave up on me," Father Philip replied.  
  
Maddy wiped her tears away, stunned. How did he know she was thinking that? By this time, she no longer thought that all adults could read minds. Her little sister, Angie, thought that. But Angie was only five, and since their mother seemed to read her mind, Angie thought all adults could. Maddy asked anyhow, wanting confirmation one way or another, "Can you read minds?" The priest laughed, his eyes returning to blue. Maddy liked it when he laughed, liked the way his eyes sparkled.  
  
"No, I can't read minds. . .but I do know what it's like t' wonder why God loves us so much. Even when we give up on ourselves, He never gives up on us. And sometimes, even when we want Him to give up on us, He never does," Father Philip answered. He smiled ruefully, then added, "Actually, I have another friend who is like that. It's frightenin', but reassurin'."  
  
Maddy nodded her agreement. Yes, he was right. Kinda like her parents. Her mom and dad sometimes scared her when they were angry about something that was done to her, but at the same time, it reassured her. . .it told her that there was nothing they wouldn't do for her. That was why what her minister said hurt so much. The preteen said, "I wish you were my priest. It's not just that you're cute." The priest blushed, and Maddy apologized, "I'm sorry, I forgot that I'm not supposed to say that to a priest. But you are cute. And you are nice. But I'm not Catholic, so you can't be my priest."  
  
However, Father Philip was shaking his head. Maddy wasn't sure exactly what that meant. However, when the priest said, "That doesn't matter. I'll be your unofficial priest, and you are my unofficial parishioner. If you ever need someone t' talk t', or ever have questions. . .the number for the rectory is in the phone book. Or just come here," Maddy understood.  
  
When Nina invited her to join her for Mass this morning, Maddy never would have believed that things would turn out so well. In just a few hours, someone told her exactly what she needed to hear, and even better, told her that even though she wasn't Catholic, he would always be there for her. Maddy said, "Thank you, Father Philip." Again, he gave her that wonderful smile. The girl glanced over her shoulder at the Andrews, who were returning, and repeated softly, "Thank you for everything."  
  
. . .  
  
Philip was very quiet after returning from Mass that afternoon. It wasn't a sad silence, Alex quickly realized, but a thoughtful silence, as if her friend was trying to work something out in his heart. During the time she knew Philip, Alex learned which silences meant what. Finally, just before dinner, she asked softly, "Want to tell me what's on your mind? You've been quiet all day, Philip, quiet even for you. Would you like to tell me about whatever is bothering you?"  
  
The young man hesitated, then replied, "Maybe if I tell ya, thin's will make sense t' me. But I'm not sure if anythin' can do that, Alex. Not after what I heard today. After Mass this mornin,' a little girl approached me. Told me that her name was Maddy, and she was twelve years old. After introductions were made, she asked me if I really believed that God loved us as much as I said He did."  
  
"That's an odd question, coming from a little girl. Well, it's an odd question, period. What made her ask you this? Do you know what prompted the question?" Alex asked. Philip sighed and sat back, gnawing on the tip of his thumb. Alex waited patiently. She knew Philip, and she knew his mannerisms. He would answer her when he had something coherent to say.  
  
At last, he replied, "Her minister told her that she didn't deserve t' be loved. . .that she didn't deserve God's love, or her parents' love." Alex felt sick at this revelation, sick and horrified. That was child abuse. . .not the kind that could be prosecuted in court, but child abuse, nonetheless, and Alex knew Philip felt the same. Her friend asked, confusion reflecting in his eyes, "How can a so-called man of God do that t' a child, Alex? I don't understand that. How can anyone who professes t' serve the Lord hurt an innocent little one like that?"  
  
There were a thousand answers Alex could have given to her friend. She could have reminded him about the thousands upon thousands of children who were betrayed by their parents, their teachers, their clergymen. But such an answer wouldn't have answered anything, because that kind of betrayal was something Philip could never comprehend. He would die himself before he would ever harm a child.  
  
"I don't know, Philip. With all the things we see on a regular basis in the Legacy, though, I think sometimes we forget that some of the worst monsters are people themselves. You set her straight, I take it," Alex said, not knowing what else to say. The young priest responded with a shrug which Alex long ago learned meant, 'I tried.' The researcher continued, "I know you tried. Do you think you got through to her, Philip?"  
  
There was another long hesitation, then Philip said slowly, "I think so. I told her that it's kinda like bein' best friends wi' someone. Even when her friend hurts her, they are still friends. I told her that love was a gift. . .that it wasn't earned. How do you explain t' a child that love isn't a matter of deservin'? I think, despite my clumsy attempts, she understood. I think I made a difference."  
  
"Clumsy attempts? Hardly. Not you. And as for making a difference to this little girl. . .I hope that doesn't surprise you, Philip. I know, probably better than anyone else in this House, why you're a parish priest. I miss you when you're not here, but I do understand why you need to be with your parish," Alex replied, drawing a sweet smile from her companion.  
  
"It's not that it surprises me, Alex. . .it's just that I find myself wonderin' if I'm doin' any good at all, if someone else would do just as well. And then poor Maddy came t' see me t'day, and suddenly, those doubts were swept away. It didn't matter any more that another priest could have done just as well. . .what mattered is that I did help this child. That's all. And, my trainin' in the Legacy wasn't even needed. Maddy needed a simple parish priest, someone who understood how she felt," Philip replied.  
  
Alex grinned as the others joined them and said, "I've got a newsflash for you, Philip, and this might shock you. You are a parish priest, no question. . .but 'simple' is one thing you'll never be!" Philip returned the smile, his pale eyes shining with renewed self-confidence. Alex would always worry about Philip. . .he was her friend, and she loved him. . .but, after today, she would worry a little less. 


End file.
